Page 16 of Maverick

Murder snorted. “A hit. Probably a crock of shit. That woman would say anything for attention.”

Kingpin took a long drag of his cigar. “Perhaps. But I ain’t takin’ chances. I need to know if she’s got anything on me or my club. Something she might trade to the highest bidder. You keep her close.”

I resisted, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll keep her close. But I’m not screwing her, if that’s what you’re aiming for,” Iadded, letting a note of sarcasm slip. “She’s older than my damn mother.”

Murder burst out laughing, nearly spilling his whiskey. “Fuck, son, no one’s asking you to pork her.”

My jaw set, ignoring that little dig. Murder wasn’t my enemy.

Kingpin smirked, half-lidded eyes glinting at Murders quip. “You do whatever you gotta do, Maverick. If you can keep your dick in your pants, more power to you.”

Murder pointed a finger at me, still grinning. “Ah, you poor bastard. Diana used to be a wildcat in the sack, when she was young and hot. We all get old, eventually.”

Kingpin spoke up. “We all had a turn with Dirty D over the years.”

Murder continued, “Yeah, before we knew, she would suck us dry in a whole other way. Then we used to have new prospects handle her so that no one else had to. They’d get a new Harley out of being on her arm for a while, in her bed, and when they tried to leave her, they’d get blackmailed. They’d learn their lesson to steer clear of a sugar mama.”

Kingpin chimed in, “We had to stop doing that when it backfired. She had too much to hold over the clubs. She drifted west.”

“I’ll do what I need to. Just make sure I’m compensated for this bullshit.”

Kingpin didn’t even blink. “You keep me informed, and I’ll keep you alive. That’s enough compensation for a Pig like you.”

I stiffened. He never missed a chance to remind me I was an ex-cop. “Fuck you, Kingpin,” I muttered, but we both knew there wasn’t much bite to my words. He had all the leverage.

Murder cleared his throat. “So, about that other shit… I hear he wants more money outta you guys.”

Kingpin nodded, stubbing out the cigar in a little ashtray. “He’s pushin’ for bigger dues, more loyalty. Says if we don’t show we’re ‘all in,’ he’ll strip us of our territory. But we built these chapters ourselves. No thanks to that asshole. We pay enough. Hell, we do all the heavy lifting. He just sits on his ass, counting money.”

Murder took a swig of his moonshine. “And rumor has it he might be behind our Cloud Nine drug fiasco in Charleston. Pushing that shit to line his own pockets.”

Kingpin’s features darkened. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Also, we got word from the guys in Nashville that some info got leaked to the mob. Stuff only he would know. Might be him fucking us over, dealing with them behind our backs. I ain’t got proof yet, but it smells rotten.”

Murder let out a dangerous chuckle. “Are we thinking of ditching them?”

Kingpin shrugged. “Might or might start something new. We got options. If we can get enough allies, who knows? Either way, he’s welcome to gargle my balls.”

I listened, stone-faced, but my mind buzzed. So, Kingpin was planning to jump ship, maybe align with another club or form his own coalition. That spelled big changes. And if I was being honest, I didn’t give a damn, so long as it didn’t screwmeover.

A scuff of boots sounded behind me, and I turned to see a large, red-haired biker stepping inside, a smattering of freckles on his brawny arms. He bowed to Kingpin, ignoring me at first. Then his gaze slid over, and his expression shifted. “Ah, well, if it ain’t Hallow,” he said in a thick Irish brogue I struggled to decipher.

I swallowed a curse. “Name’s Maverick,” I corrected him, trying to keep my tone neutral.

He flashed me a friendly smirk. “Aye, you can change your name, but I remember my brother.”

I gave a curt nod, forcing a tight smile. “Good to see you too, Irish.” The last thing I needed was reminding of my past, but Irish was a genuine soul.

He looked me up and down. “You were trouble then. Guess you’re trouble now. Glad to see you survived. Surprised you’re not signed up to fight.”

“Not this time. My new boss, whoever’s over the Road Monsters is a real piece of shit. Has no interest in having me do what I’m good at,” I said to Irish, gettingin a dig at Kingpin, since I wasn’t supposed to know who called the shots.

Irish’s curiosity was piqued. He asked, “Is that so. What’s wrong with the bastard. You’re one of the best fighters, you are.”

“Yeah, guys got small dick syndrome or something. So, I’m too busy.”

Kingpin tapped a finger on the table, clearly done with the pleasantries. “All right, enough. Irish, go find some whores to amuse yourself with until we reconvene.”

Irish laughed, heading back out. He threw me one last knowing look over his shoulder as he left.

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